The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-03-05
THE REFUGEE.

He was little old man, verging per-
haps on 60, with closely clipped hair, and
a hat which Wilhelm could not help
thinking was one size or more too big for
him. A little old man with sad eyes, but
with q pleasant voice, and smile that
often quite banished all trace of melan-
choly from his face.
But Wilhslm-the head waiter at the
dingy old Paris restaurant, where for
months he had presented himself at the
same hour daily-had taken to him from
the very first, and as the gentleman
seemed to court retirement, used invaria-
bly, to ensconce him in the suggest cor
ner of the room, not far from the char
coal stove-the time was winter-and
with no other companion save pair of
tabby cats.
"What is it tc-day?" M. Albano would
inquire, as he seated himself at the table,
with his feet on morsel of goatskin
placed there for them. "What is it to-
day, Wilhelm?'
And Wilhelm used invariably to place
somewhat dimpled fore-fnger against
the name of some particular dish on the
card, and that was the dish NJ. Albano in
variably chose.
1t was not long before Wilhelm found
out that NJ. Albano was, like himself, an
exile. They were friends indeed after
this. Wilhelm told the little old man his
story, and to some extent the little old
man told Wilhelm his. There was some
difference, nevertheless, in their stations
of life, for in his own dear land, M. Alba
NO had been count, while Wilhelm had
been but junior engineer.
"And so you are really going?" said
Wilhelm, as he stood one day near his
friend, the empty soup-bowl in his right
hand.
Greatly going, Wilhelm"
"Oh dearl Monsieur, shall sadly miss
you. Is it Brussels, Monsieur, Berlin or
Moscow? You say you have had engage
ments at all these points"
"No, no." replied M. Albano, sadly,
cit is neither of these places. / am
done with them all-done with the world,
might say. am going home"
"Whatr cried Wilhelm, with brighten
ing eyes-"home to our own dear land
Of
"Nay, nay, nay; never there again.
What matters Imperial forgiveness? Can
a king mend broken heart, even il he
could restore my fortunes! Gould gaze
without grief on those green-wooded hills
and valleys that once we're mine? Gould
1 mingle with the good people who dwell
there-and who once called me lord
without sadness? No, Wilhelm, no. My
home is near London, the home Of the
refugee, the only city in the whole world
amid hustle and stir in which an exile
may WOO forgetfulness."
Wilhelm fingered by the table for afew
minutes. He was deep in thought.
an. Albano," he said at last, to have
employment in London has long been
with me an ambitious dream-s castle in
the air-call it what you will. hate the
garb of servility in which you now see
me. Oh! there are times Monsieur, that
walk the floor all night, wild in thought,
because | feel | was born for better things
Yet 1 try to do my duty-my humble
duty"
"Yes, yes, yes" said Albano, speaking
more briskly than was his wont. THAT
is right, do your duty. l trust 1 do mine,
humble though that is. Do not let pride
interfere with that duty. Be not self
conscious. Concentrate your thoughts
and energies in your work, mental though
some may call it. Believe me, Wilhelm,
halo surrounds the head of that man or
woman who does whatever his or her
hand findeth to do, in no half-hearted
way, but with will, purpose, and an
honest pride of action, feeling inwardly
that duty is a sacred thing. Study to be
content with the state in which Proyi-
dence has placed you, Wilhelm. Study
that-study that"
"But Monsieur, you would then leave
ambition out of count"
"No, o mop Only let ambition be sub
servient to your duty. The march Of In
tellect the march of the worlds ever,
ever onward. Better yourself, by all
means, if you can; by SO doing you may
better the world; but ambitious thoughts
or actions may never interfere with your
hours Of labor. These belong to your
present employer, Wilhelm"